


Future

by sephet



Category: Original Work
Genre: First Time, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, POV First Person, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sephet/pseuds/sephet
Summary: stepping out into the world and finding you belong there





	Future

On the first day we moved to the city a woman’s body was found in the back of a car in the outskirts of town. My little brother, Matt, joked that it was an omen and I found myself lost in a feeling of deep melancholy.

I didn’t know the woman, but the idea of dying out somewhere only to be discovered heat bloated and rotting by some hiker out with his dog weighed on me. What if I died like that? Having done nothing in my life to be remembered for?

James, my older brother, thinks I’m being overly dramatic. He can only say that because he’s never been even a little dramatic in his entire life. I suppose it figures that one of us had to be sensible in the face of Matt’s melodramatic excess, but it would be nice to see him worked up for once. I think probably that I am a perfect balance of unflappable and insane.

With all my things still packed tight in their boxes and long hours between me and breakfast I set out. I had spent all my life listening to Matt fling himself about the house and James mutter quietly in witness. The familiar was always going to be there, I wanted to find something new. I wanted to remind myself of being alive and find something worth remembering.

The only bar in our hometown played country music so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think let alone have a conversation. It was almost like it was a set in a movie, like every small-town scene boiled down to one dimly lit, broken down, hostile room. It was all barely legal farm kids drinking watered down beer or bitter regulars drinking more whiskey than a detective in a noir novel. I used to have to go there every week to get my uncle until he died of liver cancer a year ago. I didn’t even think about going there for fun myself, but in the city there was a hundred bars leaking all sorts of music out their doors. I wasn’t planning on it, I wasn’t looking for a bar to sink into, but when I saw one with a rainbow flag in the door I couldn’t help myself.

I didn’t know enough to hope for anything, it just as easily could have been a movie set for all I knew what a gay bar was supposed to look like. This one could have been as weird and surreal as it felt to me, or it could be part of the norm for city folk, I didn’t know. I did know however, for the first time in my life, that I wasn’t the only gay man in the room.

I found somewhere to sit and nursed one of those watered-down beers I would have sneered at back home, just so that I could ask for something by name without showing my inexperience. I felt certain that everyone there could tell I didn’t know what I was doing. The music hurt my ears and I didn’t recognise any of it, but it all felt refreshingly homey in a way I didn’t know how to place. There was a heat and smell that came with so many people all packed together, and what should have been smothering felt instead like safety. Like bundling in a warm blanket or knowing you had someone there beside you. Despite my uncertainty I felt like I fit in a way I never had before.

When he approached I nearly choked as my heart leapt into my throat. His eyes were bright green and shone with a passionate light, like I saw in my own sometimes reflected in the mirror. The feeling of kinship was instantaneous, and he smiled kindly at me without showing his teeth.

“Are you all alone?” His voice seemed to touch something within me that I’d never had a chance to recognise. Like a little light bulb of hope going on in a dark and unused room, I’d never seen it before but now all I wanted was to live in it.

“Is that a problem?” I asked, imagining myself as being flirtatious for all that I had no idea how. When the aim of the game had been survival a sign of interest was against the rules.

“If it is I might know the solution…” Even though he had to yell over the music his voice seemed playful and when he held out his hand I felt a ripple of something amazing fly up my spine. My mind flickered briefly to the girl in the car, to dying alone without taking any chances, then I let him lead me to the dance floor.

I awoke the next morning with him snoring in my ear and none of the wild courage that had gotten me into his bed. My chest constricted as I slid myself quietly out of the covers untangling myself from his embrace. We both smelled somewhat sweaty and musky. All my daydreams ended before the morning after and somehow never included needing a shower. I tiptoed into the connected bathroom and upon looking in the mirror I still saw myself, not the wild stranger who danced and kissed and went home with mysterious and beautiful men. James had been right, and I was dramatic. Pretending my life was some marvellous romance the likes of which had beautiful covers and kept lonely women company on long flights. I knew better, I knew who I was. What I was. Where I belonged.

I heard his footsteps coming before I got the nerve to look up and see him leaning against the door frame, not as easily as one would expect a romance novel’s hero. He seemed a little bit nervous and it relaxed me somewhat to see that he had bedhead. Gazing at him with morning after eyes I could see the reality of a person and not a fantasy. His eyes were bright, but somewhat dulled by a lack of sleep. His lips were chapped, I remembered, and I liked him more for it.

“Morning…” His voice was sleep-rough and a little hesitant. I could see a bit of worry in his eyes and my chest loosened a bit. He was unsure too and that gave us a more even footing. He wasn’t here to be my fantasy, he was real and he didn’t know what to do any more than I did.

“Good morning.” My voice wasn’t any less rough than his, but I smiled a little bit and I felt warmth returning to me as I saw cautious pleasure on his face. “I have to admit that I’m not really sure what the next step is.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled wryly and ran his hand through his hair, trying to tame the night’s tangles with his fingers and failing. “Do you want some breakfast? I make a pretty edible cheese omelet.”

“Sounds good.” I pushed away from the sink and let him lead me into his kitchen. I never expected such a feeling of peace or acceptance. I spent so much of my life afraid that I would never experience something so vivid and perfect as the feeling of someone’s hand in mine or the brush of lips. I’d thought my place was to be unwanted and ashamed, but now I felt I had a chance. One memory could lead to more, a night lead to morning, a dancefloor to a kitchen, a fresh start to a new life. I could have so many things worth remembering.


End file.
